


There You Are

by lugubrious



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, my attempt at a, soulmate au kind of, suicide implied kind of????? ??????????? you'll know the bit when you see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lugubrious/pseuds/lugubrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Edison had spent his whole life waiting for something.<br/>He felt it in the pit of his stomach, a constant anticipation that burned in his limbs and underlined all his thoughts, his actions. It led him through life at a brisk pace, never allowing him to smell the roses as it were.<br/>Thomas was never sure what he was searching for but he hoped that when he found it, he’d know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There You Are

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my editor, the greatest person in the world and also the coolest coolkid nerd nougat ever. i love u MORNING DEW

Thomas Edison had spent his whole life waiting for something. 

He felt it in the pit of his stomach, a constant anticipation that burned in his limbs and underlined all his thoughts, his actions. It led him through life at a brisk pace, never allowing him to smell the roses as it were.

Thomas was never sure what he was searching for but he hoped that when he found it, he’d know.

-

“Thomas?”

His head snapped up out of his hands. He stared across at Minho, who was grinning at him. Minho shrugged on his coat.

“Gal and I are going out. You wanna come?”

Thomas scoffed under his breath.

“Yeah thanks Min, sounds tempting.”

“Did he say no?” Gally’s voice could be heard clearly, if slightly muffled, through the door leading to his bedroom. “Please, for the love of god, let him say no.”

“Hey.” Thomas raised his hands above his head and raised an eyebrow at Minho. “A guy can take a hint.”

“Are you that guy though?”

“Don’t let the door hit your klunk self on the way out alright.”

“Ever the gentleman.”

Gally emerged from his room, scowl firmly in place, and walked out of the room without as much as a nod to Thomas.

“I love that guy,” Thomas said, glaring at the door of his apartment.

“How did you guys end up living together in the first place?”

Thomas considered. “I did something really shitty in a past life and now I’m being punished for it?"

Minho nodded. “That would explain your ugly-ass face as well.”

“Just… go help Gally get laid so he doesn’t end up punching holes through the walls again, alright?”

Minho smirked, saluting Thomas mockingly, and left. The apartment fell abruptly and disconcertingly silent. Thomas sighed, shaking his head, and turned to the kitchen, rifling through the dish-washer for a bowl and spoon.

“What’s on the menu?” he mumbled to himself, appraising the open pantry before him. “It’s either cereal or cheese .” Deciding cheese was the better option he sliced a liberal part of the block into small strips and laid it on a piece of bread, which he shoved into the oven.

After almost a year of living with Gally as a roommate, Thomas knew exactly what to expect the following morning. Gally’s one night stands were almost legendary around Glade University and lucky Thomas got to deal with whoever Gally had slept with in the morning, as Gally never seemed inclined to get up until noon after most escapades.

Really, he thought tiredly, you’d think Gally would be able to manage a ‘thanks for the great night I know it definitely kept my roommate up.’

He sighed again and pulled the cheese toastie out of the oven, collapsing on the couch. He flicked on the TV, reminding himself sternly that he wasn’t allowed to fall asleep in front of ‘The Bachelor’ again unless he wanted Gally and his nameless partner falling on top of him before they got to the bedroom.

The florescent lights of the screen flickered over Thomas, filling the dim living room with cold blue hues.

_“Name’s Newt, Greenie.”_

Thomas’ head jerked upwards. He flailed slightly, trying to find his bearings, and hit the remote next to him, sending it spinning across the room. The TV was still playing softly, a girl crying luminescent tears while some Calvin Klein model looked on in perfect anguish . Thomas rubbed his eyes and switched it off, stumbling into his room and slamming the door shut before falling onto his soft bed and rolling around, searching for the perfect position.

_There was a lot of green. Maybe too much green. Maybe too vivid. It expanded across as far as the eye could see – but the eye couldn’t see that far because of large grey something that obscured the horizon and cast everything around him in shadow. Thomas looked upwards at the sky. He could feel the sun’s rays on his face, but for some reason they weren’t right. Nothing was right._

_He was more afraid than he’d ever felt in his life._

-

Thomas came back to consciousness gently . Once he was able he turned his head to the side and yawned widely. The sun that filtered in through his blue curtains and streamed onto his face was solid in its own way, warm and reassuring and right.

He lay in bed, relishing the peace of the morning and the strange comfort that the familiarity of the sun brought him. Then he stood and traipsed across the room and out into the kitchen.

There was someone already sitting at the breakfast table.

Thomas winced, remembering the events of the previous night and wondering who Gally had seduced this time.

“Morning,” he said cautiously, making his way to the cool tiled portion of the room without looking directly at them.

“G’mornin’” they replied easily. They spoke with a clipped fluidity that made Thomas immediately think ‘British’.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his back still to them. There was no real reason for this, or at least not any that he could articulate to himself.

“I helped myself to some of your cereal already.” He could hear the smile in their voice. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got an aspirin or something on you, do you?”

“Hangover?” asked Thomas sympathetically, glancing around for the first time.

The boy who looked straight at him now grinned and nodded, and Thomas staggered. He felt something deep within him clicking into place and suddenly his whole being relaxed. He didn’t even realise he’d been tensed up but now with the absence of it, he felt light and strangely giddy. _Oh_ , something deep within him seemed to say. _Oh, right. It’s you_.

“It’s only a wee one but I’d rather nip it in the bud in case it gets worse. I do not want to turn up to class with a splittin’ headache to be honest.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Thomas said carefully, trying not to sound as though he was gulping air into his empty lungs. “Yeah, I’ve got something. You want some water to help it down?”

“Please,” the stranger said, and Thomas blanched. He turned around so as not to cause a scene and gripped the edge of the sink with shaking hands, attempting to regain control on his erratically beating heart. What the fuck-

“You alright?”

He heard the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back and shuffling footsteps as he was approached from behind.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching up to the shelf above him and extracting a plastic mug which he then filled with water. He hesitated, then repeated the motion and drank from the second mug himself, the cool water soothing him enough to turn and face the person now positioned at his side.

He offered him the cup and aspirin, smiling slightly shakily. He watched him with dark brown eyes, nodding thanks as he took the pill and returned to the table.

“So,” Thomas said, desperate to make light conversation and draw all attention away from his still trembling limbs. “Do you know Gally?”

“Oh that’s his name,” the other person said, snapping his fingers. “I didn’t quite hear when he told me, so I’ve just been bloody mumblin’ all night .” He laughed, and Thomas raised his eyes to the heavens for the briefest of seconds because no one was allowed to laugh like that, honestly. It should be illegal. It was so warm and infectious and something else Thomas couldn’t put his finger on. He was stunned.

“I’m Thomas, by the way,” Thomas said , knowing full well that he’d probably never see this person again in his life and feeling strangely bereft because of it. The other nodded slowly. He opened his mouth, possibly to give his own name, when Gally appeared in the doorway. Thomas glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow.

“He rises,” Thomas said. Gally didn’t respond verbally, instead shoving his middle finger viciously in Thomas’ direction as he made his way to the kitchen sink. “You want some coffee, sunshine?”

“Fuck off Thomas,” Gally said clearly. Thomas shook his head, then turned back to the blonde sitting at the kitchen table. As Thomas looked at him, he stood and yawned.

“Well, I should be headin’ off.” He slid into a warm-looking red jacket and smiled at Thomas. “Thanks for the company.” He looked past Thomas at Gally, and smirked. “And thanks for the entertainment.”

Gally grunted, and the blonde-haired boy left, the apartment becoming strangely dim in his shining wake. Thomas stared at the closed door, wondering how blondie would react if he ran out and asked him back in. The idea that he’d just walked out of Thomas’ life altogether was daunting, impossibly so.

“He was cute, huh?” Thomas asked lightly, pulling down a cereal box. Gally shrugged.

“Not my type to be honest,” he said distinctly, taking a long gulp of coffee.

“Yeah, well, we all know what your type is,” Thomas mumbled, ducking behind the milk carton when Gally spun around, glowering.

“I thought you swore never to bring that up again,” he hissed, all but slamming the coffee cup down onto the kitchen table.

“I swore the first time,” Thomas said, “I didn’t make any promises about the other three.”

Gally looked half-way between anguished and exasperated.

“Yeah, well,” he said, clearly attempting to reign in his temper. “Fuck you Thomas.”

“Whatever you say Gally.”

Gally threw him an irritable glance and stalked off into his bedroom. Thomas looked around, and his thoughts turned back to the blonde stranger. He suddenly realised his body had tensed up again, almost imperceptibly. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering vaguely whether he would actually ever see him again. It seemed unlikely. He didn’t even know his name.

“Hey, Gally?”

“What?” The voice that came through Gally’s door didn’t invite questions, but Thomas shrugged it off. Gally never ‘invited’ anything, except maybe aggravation. How he managed to land people in his bed once a week was beyond Thomas.

“What was the name of the guy from last night?”

There was a pause, long enough for Thomas to sigh and shake his head, when Gally said,

“Isaac.”

-

_Isaac._

Thomas tried the name over in his mouth, taken aback by the acute sense of disappointment that came with it. Isaac. He dragged a hand down his face, growing increasingly frustrated. It didn’t fit him. It wasn’t right. Everything about him had been so… so… what? Reassuring? How Thomas felt about him was similar to how he’d felt about the sun earlier that morning. It was warm, comforting, and routine.

Which was, Thomas reminded himself, completely ridiculous and also stupid. He’d literally known the guy for about half an hour. If that. But Isaac just seemed wrong. It jutted out at sharp angles in his mind, unfamiliar and unfriendly compared to the blonde’s surprisingly unsurprising demeanour.

Thomas growled, reaching for his phone. She answered after three rings.

“Tom?”

“Let’s get drunk.”

There was a shuffling sound, and a sigh. “Tom, it’s 12:43.”

“What’s your point?”

“Mm. Where’d you wanna go?”

“Homestead?”

“Do we ever go anywhere else?”

Thomas grinned. “I’ll see you there?”

“You owe me,” she said pointedly, and the phone clicked as she hung up.

-

“Teresa.”

“Thomas.”

They stared each other down before Thomas broke eye contact and shrugged. “You always win. It’s official.”

“I know I do. You’re a fool for doubting me.”

“I used to be the champion at staring contests!”

Teresa scoffed and pushed open the pub door. “So.” She led the way to their usual table towards the back and next to one of the condensation-covered windows.

“What’s the occasion?”

“What?”

She glared at him. “I know you, Tom. This might be the kind of thing Minho would call me up to do, but not you. Not unless something happened.”

Thomas shrugged, busying himself with perusing the menu. “Feel like splitting a bowl of chips?”

“Fuck no. Get two bowls.”

Thomas smirked. “Alright, two bowls. A beer for you?”

Teresa seemed to think it over, then nodded. “Sure.”

Thomas stood and wandered over to the bar where Minho stood, wiping glasses.

“Hey, Min.”

His friend turned and grinned at him.

“Tom-boy! What’re you doing here? It’s noon.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Teresa’s already on quiz duty, I’m sure she’ll tell you everything I’ve said as soon as I’m gone. Can I have two bowls of chips and two beers?”

“Sure thing. Hey, d’you see the guy Gally dragged home the other night?” Something in Minho’s expression shifted slightly. He was still grinning but it seemed almost menacing. “He was something, wasn’t he?”

Thomas nodded, watching Minho curiously.

“You good?” he asked after a pause, noting the bar-tender was gripping the glass he was wiping with knuckle whitening force.

“Huh?” Minho glanced down, and laughed. He placed the glass carefully on the counter. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Did you get any last night?” Thomas asked. Minho whistled and nodded.

“Yep. She was something else.”

“You get a name?”

His friend stuck his tongue out. “No time for talking, Edison. Anyway, her mouth was pretty busy ,” he leered.

“Ah, gross. Stop.”

“So was mine, though,” Minho said, still smirking. “Equality, y’know?”

“I’m leaving now.”

He all but ran back to Teresa and collapsed into his seat with a groan. “Why are we friends with Minho?”

Teresa slid her phone into her back pocket and laced her fingers together. “Because he can lift up a chair with a small person sitting on it with one hand?”

“Probably.”

“So.” She stared at him, her large eyes intimidating and unfathomable as always. “What’s up? Tell Aunty Tessa.”

“I thought you hated that nickname.”

“Tom, I swear to god-”

“Alright, alright.” Thomas raised one hand in surrender, the other hand carefully sliding all the cutlery out of Teresa’s reach in case she got it into her head to use it as a threat. “It’s just… I met this guy today.”

Immediately Teresa relaxed.

“Ah…” she said, nodding. “So it’s about a guy. Thank god.”

“What do you mean, ‘thank god’?”

She shrugged. “I thought it was gonna be like… you got fired or something.”

Thomas scowled. “You think this isn’t a serious problem?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But this doesn’t have any effect on your income, therefore won’t have any effect on our friendship.”

“Good to know where your priorities lie.”

“I think so. Ok, so, you met a guy?”

“Yeah,” Thomas continued reluctantly. “I met this guy today. He was Gally’s one night stand from yesterday, you know?”

Teresa nodded.

“Well… I’m not really sure exactly what it was, to be honest but I just…” Thomas ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “It’s just got me messed up for some reason.”

Teresa frowned. “Did you know him?”

“No,” Thomas said immediately, and it felt like a lie. “No,” he said again, a little more firmly. “I don’t know why I’m feeling like this but I didn’t really know what else to do apart from… get drunk over it.”

Teresa smirked at him and leant back. “Healthy,” she said, resting her head against the wall.

“Shut up.” Frypan appeared at their table, bearing food and drinks.

“Thanks Fry,” Teresa said, shoving piping hot chips into her mouth as soon as the bowl touched the table, apparently immune to the burning sensation that caused Thomas to yelp and drop his chips when he tried to do the same . Frypan gave them the thumbs up.

“Oh, by the way Thomas, can you work on Sunday?” he asked, and Thomas nodded.

“Yeah, no problem. Which shift?”

“Evening.”

Thomas winced. “I hate evening shift,” he moaned, and Frypan chuckled.

“Sorry kid,” he said.

“I’m the same age as you,” Thomas called as Frypan made his way back into the kitchen. “I’m the same age as him,” he repeated, glowering. Teresa rolled her eyes.

“I know, Tom. Your life is so hard.”

“It is.” He picked up his beer glass and stared at it. Then he shrugged and downed the liquid. “At least,” he said, wiping his mouth, “it means I can lie in bed all morning if I get smashed this afternoon.”

“Listen to yourself, honestly.” Teresa shook her head. “You sound like a vodka aunt.”

“I should become a vodka aunt,” Thomas groused. “They have no troubles except liver poisoning.”

“Ah, what a life.”

-

Thomas awoke to much the same surroundings as he had the previous morning. The sunlight streamed in through the gaps in his curtains and bathed him in warmth. Except yesterday morning he hadn’t been sporting a massive headache and a foul taste in his mouth, and today he was graced with both. Thomas shifted cautiously, trying to gauge how painful it would be to get up and find himself a glass of water. When he wasn’t struck with any immediate pains, he tried sitting up. That was a little more difficult. Thomas clutched his head, cursing the moment when his alcohol-addled brain had decided what it really, really needed was more shots of vodka. When the room stopped spinning he rose slowly to his feet, breathing deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He emerged from the bedroom at a snail’s pace, taking one step at a time, breathing deeply, taking another step. He repeated the routine over and over until he reached the sink and poured himself a glass of life-saving, happiness-bringing, nectar-of-the-gods water, which he sipped slowly alongside a couple of aspirin.

Thomas sighed.

“Morning.”

Thomas spun around and instantly regretted it. He took a few more calming sips, and then looked up at the kitchen table. Isaac was seated there, looking at him in amusement. Thomas stared.

“You,” he said, articulately. “You’re here. It’s you.”

Isaac chuckled.

“That it is,” he said agreeably. “You’re here too. Bloody small world, ain’t it.”

“Ugh.” Thomas closed his eyes, massaging his temple. He wasn’t emotionally stable or sober enough to deal with this.

“You need to sit down? You look like you’re turning green. I can get you a bucket if you feel like hurlin’ .”

Thomas opened his eyes again and shook his head slowly. “No, that’s ok.” He made his way cautiously to the table and slid onto a chair with a sigh. There was silence as he drank his water and Isaac drummed his fingers soundlessly against the table’s surface.

“So,” Thomas said, because apparently he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for any solid amount of time. “You came back.”

“I did.”

“Why?” Thomas winced at the bluntness of the question. He glanced at Isaac apologetically to see the other looking thoughtful.

“Why did I? I don’t know. I was bored.” Isaac looked carefully up at Thomas as he said that, Thomas stared blankly back.

“No I mean… was it arranged? Like does Gally have your phone number?”

“Nope. Just happened to go to the same bar two nights running.”

Thomas nodded. “I see.” He took another sip of water, his mind grasping for anything to talk about, anything at all.

“So, Thomas right?” Isaac said, breaking off Thomas’ train of thought. Thomas opened his mouth to say, yeah, that’s me, when he paused. Isaac looked at him. “It’s not Thomas?”

“No, no it is. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Isaac looked interested.

Thomas shrugged. “Nicknames people call me. I’ve been listening to my best friend call me Tom all afternoon, I kinda forgot that wasn’t my actual name.”

“But Thomas is fine?”

It sounded so… wrong in Isaac’s mouth. Thomas’ throat constricted. He spluttered into his water and started to cough, almost knocking his cup over. “Thomas is fine,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant while continuing to choke.

“Alright.” Isaac sat back and smiled at him. “Thomas it is.”

Thomas thought he was going to have an aneurysm.

-

Thomas spent his evening shift swinging between being deeply frustrated at Isaac, at Gally, at himself and at everything else in the world. He still didn’t understand what was happening; all he knew was that it was pissing him off. He figured that by the time he got back, Isaac would be gone again, disappearing into the murky depths of the future leaving Thomas unsure if he would ever see him again and unsure of why he would want to.

Of course he had nothing against Isaac personally. The name still bothered him but as a person he was funny, easy to be around and thoughtful… But it remained true that Thomas didn’t know him. Not at all. Not even a little bit. He was a stranger to Thomas, and the intense reaction Thomas had to him was completely over the top.

Thomas spent most of the night trying to convince himself of that.

By the time he got home he was so sick of Isaac, so sick of all the unanswered questions and all the unneeded answers that he almost missed Gally, sitting quietly on the couch. He paused at the door to his bedroom and turned back.

“Gally?” he asked, cautiously. “What’s up?”

Gally turned around. “Nothing,” he said in his usual scratchy voice. “The fuck’s up with you?”

“I’m exhausted.” Thomas glanced around the apartment, noting without any surprise, but some relief, the lack of Isaac’s golden head. Not that he really even considered the possibility that Isaac might still be in the apartment when he got home. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Thomas grimaced slightly, wondering what it would mean if Isaac had still been there.

Then there was a flushing sound, and the bathroom door opened. 

Thomas tried very hard not to swear loudly and profusely.

Isaac gave him a brief grin, then nodded at Gally. “I’ll be in your room.”

Gally nodded, looking strangely uncomfortable, and Isaac walked quickly across the room, shutting Gally’s bedroom door behind him. Thomas walked back over to the couch and slid onto it unsteadily.

“So… what? Are you guys dating now?” Thomas struggled to keep his tone casually interested, his expression mild. Gally shrugged.

“I might not call it that but… I guess it’s something.”

Thomas felt his heart shudder, the rhythm suddenly erratic.

“I…” He cast around frantically for something, anything. “Why?”

“Why not? You said he was cute, didn’t you?”

“I thought he wasn’t your type though!” Thomas’ voice rose slightly. He clamped his mouth shut and all but glared at Gally. His roommate nodded, not seeming to notice Thomas’ predicament.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like anyone my type is really… plus, he’s really good .” Gally threw Thomas a wicked smile that made Thomas feel queasy. He wondered irritably why the hell he cared so much. Isaac wasn’t even… he was nothing. He was nothing to Thomas, Thomas didn’t even know him, and yet the thought of Isaac and Gally going out, of holding hands and kissing and then coming back to fall asleep together on the same bed made Thomas’ head spin and his fists clench. This was stupid. This was stupid. This was-

“I don’t think he’s good news for you Gally.”

“Ouch.”

Thomas froze while Gally turned in his seat. Thomas couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move.

“Bloody harsh,” Isaac said, appearing in Thomas’ fixed line of sight. Thomas gulped, looking up into Isaac’s face. The blonde was grinning down at Thomas, but in his brown eyes Thomas could see real hurt.

He felt like the smallest person in the entire planet. “Isaac-” he started, wondering what the hell was going to come out of his mouth this time, but before he could say anything Gally held up a hand.

“Thanks for your input, Thomas,” he said, “but if you don’t mind I’m gonna make my own decisions, seeing as it’s my fucking life?”

“We sound like a quarrelling mother and child,” Thomas mumbled, gazing at his hands.

“Kinda feels like you’re trying to baby me right now, fuck head. So stop it. Go hang out with Teresa or something, I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

And with that, Gally took Isaac by the hand and dragged him into his bedroom while Thomas sat helplessly at the kitchen table. The door shutting snapped him out of his horrified trance, and he sprang to his feet. He was exhausted, so exhausted the room spun slightly as he stood there, but suddenly Thomas knew he couldn’t be in this apartment a second longer. Not while Isaac and Gally were together behind Gally’s closed bedroom door. He couldn’t stand it. Thomas opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, marching down the hall of apartments as fast as he could. When he reached the stairs he broke into a run, sprinting down the carpeted steps and stopping, breathless, in front of an apartment several floors below his own. He knocked on the door.

There was a clicking sound, and suddenly Minho stood before him, yawning loudly.

“Hey,” Thomas said, feeling absurd. “Can I sleep on your couch?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, but nodded without saying anything. They walked into the apartment together.

“You know where everything is?” Minho asked, his voice rough with sleep, and Thomas nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, already moving to Minho’s linen cupboard. Minho waved a hand, headed straight for his own room.

“See you in the morning,” he heard his friend say, and the bedroom door clicked shut.

Thomas lay down on the squishy couch, feeling his breath slow and his pulse calming down until he closed his eyes and drifted.

-

_Thomas never wants to see another gun in his life, let alone touch one. He drops the offending weapon on the grimy street and turns away from something awful. Something horrendous. Something he knows he would never recover from seeing if he glanced back over his shoulder._

_So instead of satisfying the masochistic curiosity in the pit of his stomach he runs, runs, as fast as he can because that seems to be the only thing he’s good at._

_The shame is a physical pain in his side._

-

“You want pancakes?”

Thomas nodded.

“Alright, eggs and milk are in the fridge, I have some packet mixture Winston left… you know what to do.”

Thomas glared at Minho, then stood and walked over to the cupboard. “I thought you were offering to make them.”

Minho scoffed. “Please, man.” He glanced up from his phone with a smirk. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

“Mr. I-can’t-cook himself, right.”

There was silence as Thomas retrieved all the ingredients necessary and lined them up carefully next to the stove. He busied himself with cooking, reluctantly glad for more distractions, another reason to stay longer in Minho’s airy apartment and postpone returning to his own three floors up.

“You working today?” he asked.

“Nah.” He heard Minho push his chair back from the table and get to his feet. “I’m gonna go for a jog sometime today though, if you wanna come.”

Thomas shrugged. “Sure.”

“So.” Minho appeared behind him, sticking his finger into the pancake batter. Thomas wrinkled his nose. “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

Thomas grimaced. “Do I have to?”

“Is it about the dude you were telling Teresa about the other night?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, and Minho grinned. “I knew she’d tell you.”

“We’re married, we can’t keep secrets from each other.”

Thomas laughed. “Someone should tell Brenda, she’ll be crushed.”

“She knows the situation.”

“Does Gally?” Thomas asked innocently. Minho’s face went curiously blank, and he sighed, cuffing Thomas over the head.

“You’re not getting out of it that easily, Tommo.”

“He’s seeing someone, you know.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “He is, huh.”

“Yeah.” Thomas gritted his teeth against the onslaught of unwelcome thoughts. He hated it, hated the angry feeling deep in his chest at the mention of Gally’s unspecified relationship with Isaac. “You remember the guy he went home with the other night?”

“That guy?” Minho looked momentarily genuinely confused. “But he’s not Gally’s type.”

“I know,” Thomas muttered. “I guess he’s stepping out of his comfort zone or something.”

A smell of burning suddenly filled the apartment, and Thomas jumped, swearing. He quickly shovelled the blackened pancake off the pan, tipping it onto the waiting plate. Minho was back by his side, pouring more pancake mixture onto the pan.

“Go get dressed,” he said, pushing Thomas away from the stove. “I’ll finish these.”

“If I leave you here alone and I come back to find the apartment burned down, will I be charged with murder?”

“Just go, slint-head.”

Thomas sighed and slipped on his runners, heading out into the corridor and making his way up the stairs. He dawdled on the landing of each floor. He was practically dragging his feet when he reached his own floor. The third door to the right loomed in front of him ominously.

It was only when he was hovering directly in front of the door that he remembered. In his haste to leave the previous night, he’d chosen speed over his keys , leaving him locked out of the apartment unless Gally opened up and let him in. He stood helplessly in the hallway, not wanting to knock, wanting to knock, not wanting to go in, wanting to go in.

He swallowed, raising a hand. He intended to tap on the door softly, then go back down and claim to Minho that no one was home. Then the door opened and Thomas found himself face to face with Isaac. Thomas stared at him in despair. What luck.

Isaac stepped backwards silently, allowing Thomas to enter the apartment hesitantly. He glanced over his shoulder. Isaac was standing at the door; he seemed to be biting his lip. Thomas walked quickly to the door of his room and entered, breathing a sigh of relief when he was enclosed within the familiar area. He set about getting changed in new, clean clothing . He re-emerged in jeans and a t-shirt, and was shocked to see Isaac still standing by the door, immovable as the pillars of ancient Greece.

Thomas grabbed his key off the table where he’d left it the previous night and looked towards Isaac. He cleared his throat.

“You leaving?”

Isaac twitched, seeming to come back to life, and nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I am. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No problem,” Thomas said honestly. Without Gally in the room all his jealousy and resentment evaporated, leaving Thomas with the strange, soothing feeling Isaac seemed to bring with him. “Where you headed?”

They stepped out into the hallway together. Thomas closed the door behind him and fell into step with the other boy.

“There’s a bus stop almost directly outside this place that takes me close to my apartment,” Isaac said. “Bloody convenient.”

“You don’t live near here?”

“Near enough that it’s easy to get to the University.”

“You study at the Glade?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said. “You?”

“I do. I’ve never seen you around before, though.”

They chatted almost comfortably, although Thomas could see a slight hesitancy in Isaac that squeezed at his stomach. He opened his mouth to apologise, pausing outside Minho’s apartment door. Instead of doing that, he turned and left Isaac in the corridor without saying goodbye.

“I’m such a dick,” he informed Minho without so much as a greeting.

“True,” Minho said, now seated in front of a gently steaming plate of pancakes. “Hungry?”

-

“So, you’re in love with your roommate’s boyfriend.”

Thomas groaned, turning around to see Teresa glaring at him.

“What did Minho tell you?” he asked, pulling his earplugs out of his ears and trying not to breathe too loudly.

“He’s been texting me while running,” Teresa said, holding up her phone. Thomas read the messages, grudgingly impressed, and sighed.

“I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Then how come you’ve already drunk yourself silly over him and had to leave the apartment ‘cause you couldn’t handle the thought of him and Gally banging in the other room?”

“These are all perfectly reasonable reactions to have over someone you’re not in love with.”

“Someone you only met three days ago.”

Thomas opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He slumped in defeat, and Teresa patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s weird, you know,” she said, leading him over to a park bench by the hand like he was a little kid. “I thought Gally was all hung up over… well.” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Thomas shrugged.

“So did I. Maybe he is? Maybe Isaac is just a distraction.”

“Hmm.”

Thomas leaned back against the wood and closed his eyes. “I told Gally I didn’t think Isaac was good for him, and Isaac heard me say it.”

He heard the creak of Teresa moving to face him, probably in disbelief.

“Did you apologise?”

Thomas coughed and shook his head.

“Tom-”

“I’m hopeless?”

Thomas opened his eyes to see Teresa shaking her head. “Beyond hopeless. How Gally manages to put up living with you I’ll never know.”

“I’m fairly tidy ,” Thomas mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why was everything so messed up? He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Minho grinning down at him, a sheen of sweat on his face.

“How’s the lovelorn idiot?”

“Getting harder to deal with by the minute,” Teresa huffed, getting to her feet. “And how about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, aren’t you lovelorn too?”

“Ha.”

Thomas got to his feet. “I’m gonna keep going,” he said, and Teresa nodded.

“Don’t trip over your own feet,” she said. Thomas said nothing. He pushed the earphones deep into his ears and turned the music up so loud he could feel it resonating in his bloodstream.

-

The alarm went off at 6am and Thomas rolled over, alert and filled with anticipation. He almost jumped out of bed, blanket securely wrapped around his shoulders, and bounded into the living room. He dropped the blanket on the couch and went to the kitchen, making himself a hurried bowl of cocoa pops and a glass of milk before throwing himself back onto the couch and swathing himself with the soft blanket. He switched the TV on and settled back, feeling more peaceful than he had in a while.

Or at least, more uncomplicatedly peaceful. He knew this feeling; he was used to it. He hummed along to the theme song of ‘Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends’ loudly, Gally’s snores from the bedroom door almost drowning out his voice.

The door opened with a creak and Isaac appeared in the doorway, wearing a baggy t-shirt and loose sweatpants. His hair was caught up in a bun, and the whole effect was somehow endearing and strangely heartbreaking. Thomas blinked up at him.

“Sorry,” he said, “did I wake you?”

“Nah.” Isaac motioned towards the TV. “I get up for the morning cartoons.”

“Well I’m already one step ahead of you.” Thomas settled more comfortably in his blanket and gave Isaac a smile, which Isaac returned, looking vaguely confused.

“I’ll get some breakfast,” Isaac said after a pause, and walked away. Thomas could hear his feet slapping lightly against the tiled kitchen floor.

Isaac returned a few minutes later, hugging a bowl of cornflakes to his chest, and perched on the edge of the couch. Thomas noted sadly that Isaac didn’t seem half as comfortable around him as he had previously, but maybe that was for the best.

He wasn’t about to go and steal his roommate’s boyfriend, after all.

“You can sit on a cushion, you know,” Thomas said after a while, shuffling over a little bit to make room for Isaac. Isaac eyed him cautiously and slid down onto the couch. They watched the cartoon in silence. Thomas glanced sideways, his heartbeat tripping over itself as it thrummed in his chest. Isaac was just sitting there, one of his hands was lying on the couch and it looked like it would so easily fit into his own, he could just lean over and –

Isaac laughed suddenly, his eyes crinkling.The sound slipped down Thomas’ spine like warm oil, smooth and relaxing. He sat on his hands so they would behave and stared straight ahead at the television, seeing it but not registering it.

-

It was so hard. Thomas walked a fine line. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and Isaac as possible. Maybe he wasn’t Gally’s fondest friend and Gally wasn’t his, but that didn’t give him a right to make a move on Gally’s… whatever Isaac and Gally were.

But at the same time, all he wanted to do was grab Isaac and kiss him, kiss him as many times as he could, map out the shape of Isaac’s jaw with his lips and then fall asleep with Isaac’s golden hair tickling his chin.

It was so, so hard.

Thomas spent a lot of time doing his physics homework in the library and working extra shifts at the pub.

-

“You don’t like me.”

It wasn’t a question. There was no feeling behind the words, either. It was a statement, as plain and emotionless as a maths equation, but it hurt Thomas so much more than any algebra ever could . He spun around to see Isaac looking at him mildly.

“What?”

“You don’t like me,” Isaac repeated, fixing Thomas with an intense gaze. 

“I--” Thomas stared at Isaac. He swallowed. “Yes I do.” Isaac’s eyebrows twitched, and he shook his head.

“S’ok. I don’t mind. I just want to know where I bloody stand, y’know? And,” he paused, frowning, “that’s really bloody hard to figure out with you.”

“Why do you think I don’t like you?” Thomas asked breathlessly, wondering how the hell he’d ended up in this situation and what the hell he was supposed to do now. Isaac scoffed.

“’He’s not good news for you Gally’,” Isaac quoted, sounding almost bitter. Thomas flushed.

“I didn’t mean that,” he mumbled. “I just-”

“Just tell me the truth, Thomas.”

Thomas’ mind went blank. He stood up so swiftly he didn’t even have time to think.

“Ok,” he said. He was breathing heavily. “Ok. You want the truth. Is that what you want?”

Isaac nodded, watching him with a strange look in his eyes.

 _‘The truth is that I like you. Alright? I like you, Isaac. I like you a lot. Probably too much, when you’re sleeping with my roommate. I like your smile and your laugh and your hair, and it drives me crazy because every day you’re here, smiling and talking and being perfect and I can’t do anything.’_ Thoughts skimmed through his mind as Thomas stepped closer to Isaac. His face was flushed and he knew it but he didn’t care. He wanted to say ‘I like you more than anyone I’ve ever known in my entire life and I have no idea what to do’, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Isaac stared at him. Their faces were inches apart, and even though Isaac was so painfully familiar – his face felt soft and worn in Thomas’ memory like it was something he’d seen over and over again – like it was something he’d known his whole life, the closeness was… new.

“Thomas,” Isaac’s voice was low. He was gazing at Thomas with an unreadable expression.

“No,” Thomas bit out. He could feel something breaking. “I don’t like you. You’re right.” But he didn’t move, and Isaac didn’t either. They stood, fixed in place, almost touching, and all Thomas wanted to do was lean in and –

There was a clinking sound, keys scraping in a lock outside, and Thomas jerked back instantly. He didn’t even know he’d been tilting forward. Isaac was immobile, looking at Thomas with dark eyes and clenched fists. He turned away, breaking eye contact, and Thomas felt breathless. The gesture hurt him more than anything anyone had ever done to him before.

The door opened, and Gally pushed through, scowling as always.

“What have you guys been up to?” he asked.

-

_Thomas was surrounded by gloom and eerie silence. He moved cautiously between large grey pillars, wondering where he was, why he felt such an intense foreboding._

_There was an unnatural clicking sound, and Thomas turned around._

-

Thomas woke up yelling.

He rolled over, fighting through his suddenly overbearing bed clothes. He had to get away, he had to run, he had to get out –

Thomas burst through the door of his bedroom, panting. He could feel cold sweat on his forehead and he doubled over in the living room. He felt like he was going to faint, or throw up.

“Are you ok?”

He felt someone tentatively resting their hand on his back. He didn’t respond, instead he focused on regulating his breathing, staring at his knees as they swam in and out of focus. He could feel the hand on his back rubbing light circles just below his neck and the repetitive motion was grounding. Unconsciously, he timed his breaths to the movement until he felt able to straighten up. He looked around. Isaac was watching him, both guarded and anxious. Thomas wanted to hit himself in the face.

“What’re you doing out here?” Thomas asked. He could still feel Isaac’s warm palm through his ratty t-shirt. Isaac’s expression was unreadable.

“I was just about to leave,” he said, retreating from Thomas and slipping on shoes.

“Wh-now?” Thomas stared at him. “But it’s still dark out! Will you be ok getting home? Can I call you a cab?” He paused, the gears of his panic-riddled brain clicking together. “Wait… why are you leaving? I thought… Gally?”

Isaac gave him a rueful smile. “I think that’s over,” he said. “You were right. I’m no good for him.”

He turned and left the apartment without another word. Thomas glanced over at Gally’s tightly shut door. He cleared his throat.

“Uh…”

The door flew open, and Gally was standing there looking wide-awake and burning white-hot with anger.

“Let me guess,” he said, slow and sinister, like a wild cat stalking its prey. “You want to know what happened.”

“Well.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s probably none of my business, you guys just seemed… I don’t know. It’s fine. Never mind.” He backed away, determinedly ignoring the almost physical itch to understand, to find out why Isaac had been forced to leave in the middle of the night and why Gally was now glaring at him with an expression so full of malice Thomas was nervous he might spontaneously combust. He was about to close his bedroom door when he heard Gally say,

“He called me ‘Tommy’ in bed .”

Thomas fell over.

-

“He called Gally ‘Tommy’?”

Minho sat back, looking unimpressed. “Pretty dick move. What do you see in this Isaac guy again?”

“What are you complaining about,” Thomas muttered. “Now’s your chance to go sweep Gally off his feet.”

Minho hissed, but before he could strangle Thomas to death Teresa piped up.

“So, now Isaac’s a single man again you can stop pining and go kiss the guy already, right?”

Thomas groaned. “I wish,” he said. “But I have no idea how to find him. I know he goes to Glade Uni, but I’m guessing he doesn’t do any classes in the science wing. I’ve never seen him there.”

Minho wasn’t listening. “Someone should be getting drunk with Gally right now,” he said, arms folded. “I mean, he did just get called another guy’s name in bed. That’s gotta smart.”

“Ok so go,” Teresa said, looking at Minho with exasperation. When he didn’t move, she seemed to take a moment to collect herself, before casually pulling a pocket knife out of her purse. She slammed it, point down, onto the table. “Go,” she said again, and that time Minho went as fast as he could. Teresa shook her head. “If I ever invent a time machine I’m gonna go back to the day I met Minho. Yes he’s super-hot, I’ll tell myself, but I can get through life without that mess."

“Too bad you had no hope of getting through life without me, huh ?”

“Just my luck our mothers were friends before we were even born.”

Thomas smirked. Teresa leant forward and hid her face in her arms.

“Just… check for all the Isaacs in our school records or something,” she said, sounding defeated. “If you can’t find him, I officially don’t care.”

“Did you ever?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled. Thomas grinned.

-

“Physics is a gift .”

Thomas flicked through his text book again, stopping to marvel at the pages. He glanced at Minho, who was seated next to him and clutching a cup of coffee. “Minho, did you know physics is a gift?”

When Minho said nothing, Thomas frowned. “What’s up?” he asked cautiously. Minho stared at him, his normally confident expression replaced with a strange fearfulness that made him look so much younger. Thomas was instantly seized with intense disquiet. He reached over and gripped Minho’s arm. “Are you alright?”

“I think I’m Gally’s boyfriend,” Minho whispered. Thomas stared at him, then rocked back on his heels and let out a laugh that had the librarian breathing down their necks within seconds.

“Why are you looking like the world’s ended?” Thomas asked in a euphoric whisper after the librarian had finished chastising him. “This is so great, honestly–you guys are like Rachel and Ross.”

“First of all, fuck you, Ross is a piece of crap and Rachel deserves better. Second of all,” Minho clenched his fists on his jeans, looking angry and fidgety at the same time, “I’ve never dated anyone before.”

“So?” Thomas shrugged. “Neither has Gally.”

“What about Isaac?”

“That was never,” Thomas pulled a face and mimed airquotes, “’official’. I mean, I don’t really know, I never spent any time in the apartment if I could help it, but they didn’t seem to do stuff together. They were like… fuckbuddies or something.”

“Not helping, klunk-face,” Minho growled, and Thomas winced.

“Sorry, sorry. Why’re you worried? You’re a catch.”

“Thomas, I swear to god.”

“Gally’s been waiting for this forever,” Thomas reminded him. “I would know. I’ve had to live with the guy. So just… let it happen? I guess? I mean you’ve been friends since middle school. Surely nothing can be worse than mid-teens Gally wearing snapbacks.”

Minho snorted, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“You know Thomas, for someone who’s really stupid, that was a pretty smart thing that just came out of your mouth.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m a great influence on you.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Anyway, stop nerding all over your science books, we came here with a fucking job to do.”

Thomas reluctantly put the text book down and swivelled around on the chair to face the computer.

“Do I just type in ‘Isaac’?”

“Yep.”

Thomas stared at the screen. “Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“There are like… 50 students found with that name.”

Minho groaned, eyeing Thomas. “You’re sure this guy is worth it?”

Thomas bit his lip, thinking about Isaac’s smile, his laugh, the way he made Thomas feel so secure and comfortable, the way his eyes –

“Hey, earth to Tom-boy.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s worth it,” Thomas said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I’m 100% sure. I know he’s worth it.”

“Alright, you got it.”

-

Thomas collapsed onto a chair at the pub, not bothering to say hello to Teresa or Minho. Teresa raised an eyebrow.

“What have you been up too?”

“I tracked down 10 ‘Isaac’s’ today,” Thomas said.

Teresa stared at him. “Why… don’t you just look up the names on facebook or something?” she asked incredulously.

Thomas felt as though he was deflating.

“How you got a scholarship to study physics is beyond me,” Teresa muttered, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Alright, give me the list of names.”

“How’d you know I printed the names out?”

“Because I have faith in you.”

“Wow.”

“Thomas?” Minho folded his arms and was leaning forward on the table.

“Yeah?”

“Two things.” He held up a finger. “First, go get us a beer.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and clambered to his feet. “What was the second thing?”

“Talk to Gally.”

Thomas had not been expecting that. “Talk to Gally? About what?”

Minho shrugged. “Isaac. You’re planning on dating him, right?” Thomas tingled at the idea; he nodded. “Then you should let Gally know. He’s not made of stone, alright?”

“Right.” Thomas asked Frypan for three beers and sat back down next to Teresa, feeling oddly detached.

“Is this him?”

Teresa’s phone was suddenly directly in front of his face. Thomas blinked, waiting for the image to come into focus. The profile read ‘Isaac Newton’, and the picture was of Isaac, with a grin on his face. Thomas exhaled loudly, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly jittery. “That’s him.

-

“Gally?”

Thomas spoke hesitantly. His roommate hadn’t looked at him since the night Isaac left and it didn’t seem as though he was planning on remedying that anytime soon. If he’d heard Thomas call his name he gave no sign of it. Thomas took a deep breath and sat down next to Gally on the couch.

“Gally, I’m sorry about what happened.” Gally didn’t move. “We didn’t… we didn’t do anything. I don’t know how or why that happened. I mean, Isaac thought I hated him.” Nothing. Thomas closed his eyes, pressing his palms against his eyelids. “I’m…wild. About him . I want to date him. Teresa’s helping me look for him right now and… I thought I should tell you.”

“Why?” Gally’s voice was low, it sounded almost like a growl. “Why should you tell me? You want my fucking blessing?”

“No,” Thomas said quickly, “No I just… I don’t know. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Well I couldn’t give less of a shit. Go out with him, whatever. You shuck-faces are made for each other probably.”

Thomas watched helplessly as Gally got to his feet.

“I’m going to Min’s,” he said, and his voice suddenly sounded less threatening. “Don’t wait up.”

The door slammed shut, and Thomas sat in the gloom and the quiet until his phone buzzed loudly and he extracted it from his pocket.

 _Isaac’s an art student_ , the message read. _I asked Brenda if she knew him, she does. He has a lecture from 1:30pm – 3:00pm. Room 4C in the art department._

Thomas checked the time. It was 2:45. He stood quickly, pulling on his jumper, and was out of the apartment in less than a minute.

He sprinted down two blocks to the University, pausing only when he got to the main doors. Art building. Ok. He searched through the hall for an arrow or a map or something but when nothing provided itself he walked nervously up to the information desk.

“Hey,” he said, both hands gripping the edge of the desk, “could you please tell me where the art department… is?”

The person behind the desk nodded. “Go through the left door over there,” they pointed at the double doors leading onto a large garden, “and then it’s the red-brick building to the right.”

“Thanks.” Thomas walked as fast as he could without seeming like he was in a hurry, wondering if he should pause to smell the roses or something , or if anyone was even paying him any attention. When he figured no one really cared what he did , he broke into a run, breezing past the neatly clipped lawns where students lay and sunned themselves.

The red-brick building stood between two large oak trees. It looked arty even from a distance because of the interestingly arranged tiles that lead to the front door. Thomas took a moment to marvel at the large, airy interior. The walls were whitewashed and covered in random drawings and graffiti, and the floor was linoleum. It smelt of paper and wood. The closest room to Thomas was labelled ‘1A’, and there was a large metal staircase leading up to the adjoining floors. Thomas began to climb, forcing himself to move slowly, unhurriedly, taking in the new surroundings. He dawdled up past the second and third floor, finally reaching the top floor with three minutes to 3. The door labelled ‘4C’ was to the far left. It was open, and from inside he could hear the soft murmur of a reasonable amount of students talking casually amongst themselves.

He hovered in the corridor, moving from foot to foot as the seconds ticked past with a mocking lethargy. Finally a bell rang somewhere within the heart of the building , and people began to trickle out through the open door.

Isaac was the third person to leave the classroom.

Thomas stared at him for a full ten seconds before it occurred to him to actually go and speak to the guy. He shook his head and walked slowly, practically dragging his feet, to fall into step with the blonde. He cleared his throat. Isaac paid no attention to him. Thomas tried again, coughing gently into his fist. Nothing. He puffed up his lips and exhaled slowly, it hissed through the air.

“Isaac?”

The blonde’s eyes flickered towards him. His expression was disdainful, disinterested . Thomas had never felt so insignificant. He gulped.

“I need to… talk to you,” he said. He was losing confidence with every step. This was ridiculous.

“You do?” Isaac said, pleasantly. His tone did not match his demeanour.

“Yeah. I have to tell you something.”

Isaac swung around, his face hard. “Well, I’m bloody listenin’.”

Thomas gaped at him. “Wh- here?” He had not been expecting that. “Wait, can we… I can’t do it here.”

“Alright then.” Isaac turned and began to walk again. Thomas reached out and gripped his arm before he could stop himself. He immediately relinquished his grasp, cursing himself. 

“One dinner,” he called. “One dinner, you don’t have to talk to me. I’ll pay.”

Isaac didn’t turn around and Thomas groaned. 

“Homestead Pub,” he tried again. “Tonight, 8:30. I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Then he sprinted out of the building and didn’t stop moving until his duvet cover was wrapped around him protectively.

-

He fell in and out of sleep for hours. Around him he could hear Gally moving throughout the apartment. He heard him laugh and swear and assumed he must be on the phone to Minho. He heard the door slam shut – and there was silence.

Thomas pushed himself out of bed and walked into the now deserted kitchen-slash-living room. The clock read 20:00. He shrugged on a jumper, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair nervously.

The air outside his apartment was crisp. He walked slowly, folded within the depths of his jumper, and was grateful to enter the warmth of the Homestead. He sat down, avoiding Teresa’s eye over the bar, and stared down at his hands. He didn’t want to look at the door. He knew he was 15 minutes early and if he chanced one glance at the entrance he would be staring at it until Isaac either appeared, or he didn’t.

There was a gentle scuffling noise. Thomas took a deep breath, counted to three, and raised his eyes.

Isaac was sitting opposite him. He was looking around and seemed to be biting his nails. It was a gesture that caused a strange weight on Thomas’ shoulders; he ached with the familiarity of it. He coughed, and Isaac turned to face him, both of his hands falling into his lap.

“You’re here,” Thomas said, his voice saturated with disbelief. Isaac tilted his head slightly.

“I am,” he agreed. “Guess I’m a buggin’ idiot.”

“No,” Thomas said quickly. “You’re not. Thank you for… thank you.” Isaac didn’t reply, and Thomas cleared his throat. “D’you want something to… to eat? Or drink?”

“We can eat after you’ve said your piece.”

“Right.” The room was airless. Thomas took a moment to prepare himself. He could feel himself becoming panicky. “You asked me before if I liked you. I said I didn’t.” He could feel Isaac staring at him, but Thomas kept his gaze down. “That was a lie,” he said. His voice was soft, possibly inaudible. “I lied,” he said, louder, looking to his left. “I did. I do. Like you, that is.” He tried laughing, but it came out wrong. His heart felt as if it was shaking his whole body, and he wondered if Isaac would notice the table trembling.

“I messed up,” he said bluntly. “I did. I shucked everything over. You were… seeing Gally and I hated it. So I tried to… distance myself from you. But I only managed to… ruin everything.” He chanced a glance at Isaac. The blonde was looking pensive, tracing shapes on the smooth wooden table. “I’m sorry,” Thomas said. He felt warm and cold, his skin was suddenly extremely sensitive, he could feel the prickling sensation running down his arms, the one that came with goosebumps. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

For a second he considered mentioning the fact that he felt more content with Isaac than he’d ever felt in his whole life. That he spent his days feeling strangely unsatisfied, always looking, never understanding, until he saw Isaac seated at his small, plain green kitchen table. That the idea of living with himself, knowing he’d let Isaac out of his life, was ridiculously, painfully unbearable.

But he stayed quiet, watching carefully as Isaac got to his feet. This was it then. This was the end. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch as Isaac left, when Isaac spoke.

“So,” he said. “Beer?”

Thomas’ eyes flew open and he gazed up at Isaac. “What?” he said, his voice slightly croaky.

“You want beer? Or something else?”

“Beer sounds great,” Thomas said weakly. “Thanks, Isaac.”

Isaac shook his head and smiled the first real smile Thomas had seen on him in a while.

“I’ve decided the best thing to do,” Isaac said, “is start over. And if we’re gonna do that I should bloody introduce myself properly.” He stretched out a hand. “Hi,” he grinned. “Name’s Isaac, but my friends call me Newt .”

Thomas started to cry.

-

Newt was sitting beside him in a second, watching him anxiously. “Are you alright?” he asked, and Thomas wished he would reach out and rub soothing circles on his back again.

“I’m fine,” Thomas said. His face felt hot enough to evaporate the tears on his cheeks. “Sorry. This is so stupid.”

“It’s unexpected,” Newt said, smiling. “Not everyday you get people bursting into tears over your buggin’ nickname.”

Thomas laughed.

“I’ll go get us a beer, alright?” Newt walked to the bar, leaving Thomas to bang his head quietly on the table top. When he returned, Thomas had somewhat composed himself. 

“Sorry,” he said again, accepting the glass. Newt shook his head.

“You’ve done and bloody apologised enough today, alright? No more.”

“No more,” Thomas promised. “So, Newt.” He paused; the nickname resonated softly in his mind. “What do you feel like for dinner? I’m paying, remember.”

Newt leant backwards, his eyes bright. “I wouldn’t say no to a good burger if this place does ‘em.”

“Oh man, Frypan does the most incredible burger. I could eat them forever. He gets the spices just right.”

“What’ll you get?”

“The same. You want bacon with your burger?”

Newt smirked. “Who could say no to that?”

“True, but I didn’t want to assume. I’ll be right back.”

Thomas had to refrain from skipping from the table to the bar. “Two burgers please,” he told Teresa. “With bacon.”

“How’s it going, lover boy?”

Thomas grinned. “Fine,” he said, shrugging. In three steps he crossed the space to the table where Newt sat and flung himself down. “They shouldn’t be too long,” he promised.

“No problem.” Newt looked around comfortably. “Nice place, this.”

“Yeah. I actually work here some evenings. As a waiter. It’s owned by a family friend so it was convenient.” He took a sip of drink. “Do you work?”

Newt nodded. “I’m not really ‘employed’ by a company or anythin’. I mow people’s lawns and prune their buggin’ plants and stuff. I guess you could say I’m a gardener?”

“Cool. And an artist, right?”

Newt chuckled. “Nah, not yet. I’m workin’ on that though.”

“Oh? D’you have any projects ongoing at the moment?”

“Well there’s a big art exhibit soon so I’m hopin’ I’ll get something finished so I can enter it in that.”

“Can I see your art?” Thomas asked, leaning forward. Newt shook his head, but he looked pleased.

“You can see it when it’s done,” he said. “I’d be too bloody scared to show a work in progress to anyone.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they both drank, but it was an easy silence.

“So what are you studying?” Newt asked. “Was it chemistry?”

“Physics,” Thomas corrected. “Yeah, I’m in the science wing.”

Newt stuck his tongue out. “I never had a head for all that bloody science-y stuff.”

“I love it,” Thomas admitted. “I read my physics textbooks before bed sometimes .”

Newt laughed. Thomas wanted him to laugh forever. He felt a sort of bravery burning through his limbs. He laid his arm on the table, wondering how Newt would react if he reached over and slid their fingers together He almost acted on the impulse, but Teresa appeared at the table, shoving burgers in front of the two of them. He blinked and looked up into her face. She was smirking.

“Enjoy your meals,” she said, her voice had adopted the chirpy, bouncy tone she greeted all patrons with. Thomas flipped her the bird, and she tut-tutted him. “Where are your manners young man?”

He glowered at her until she left, snickering to herself. “That’s Teresa,” he told Newt. “She’s probably the oldest friend I have. We met in the hospital when we were born.”

“I haven’t seen my oldest friend in a long time,” Newt mused. Thomas frowned.

“How come?”

“He’s back in London. I lived there until I was 18, see.”

“Really? Judging from your accent I’d never have guessed,” Thomas muttered, and Newt grinned.

“It’s still strong, huh?”

“Are you kidding? I pegged you as a Brit the first morning I met you.”

Newt pretended to look hurt and took a bite out of his burger.

“Bloody hell.”

“I told you it was good. But tell me more about England. Did your family come here with you?”

“Nah. My sister Grace, she’s older than me, she came here before I did. But I came out on my own. Left Mum and Dad and Alby back in England.”

“Alby’s your… brother?”

Newt grinned. “Might as well be. He’s the friend I was talkin’ about earlier.”

“I have a younger brother Chuck.” Thomas shook his head. “I wish he was in England,” he muttered darkly.

“Eh, you miss the bickering after a while.”

“If you want, I’ll bicker with you.”

“Chivalry is alive.”

-

They walked back to the bus stop outside Thomas’ apartment. Thomas smiled ruefully.

“You probably don’t want to come up, do you?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful. Newt smirked.

“Not bloody likely.”

“Can I have your number?”

“Sure,” Newt glanced at his watch. “Only, I left my phone at home and I never bothered to memorise my own bloody phone number.”

“Well… I could… come over to your house with you?” Thomas said. His tone was carefully neutral, but his heart was blocking his windpipe. Newt’s teeth gleamed in the darkness.

“Smooth.”

“Is that a ‘no’?”

“If you want to wait in the cold for a bus with me I’m not gonna buggin’ stop ya.”

Thomas beamed.

-

They shared Newt’s headphones on the bus ride to his apartment. Thomas was impressed at the amount of classical music Newt had until he explained it was all his sister’s stuff.

“She’s a composer,” he explained. “Bloody good at it, too. This one’s my favourite.”

Thomas closed his eyes, listening to the soft violin, and nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“You see your sister often?”

“Yeah. She forces me to go over to see her at least once a fortnight for coffee, but I don’t mind because her apartment is bloody incredible.”

“Aw,” Thomas grinned. “Warms my heart.”

“A man’s material possessions are all that really matter, Tommy.” Thomas inhaled too fast, he could feel his eyes watering.

“Is that so?” he asked, trying not to cough.

“Yep.” Newt’s face was solemn, his eyes glittered. Thomas snorted. He nudged Newt with his elbow.

“Classic British wit.”

“I try to do my country proud.”

The building Newt lived in was squat and wide. It only had five levels and six apartments on each floor. Newt lived on the fifth floor.

“The elevator’s always out of order,” he explained as they climbed the darkly carpeted stairs. “So this is my daily exercise.”

“This is probably the most energetic thing I’ve done all month.”

“Liar. I saw you runnin’ the other day.”

“Oh, yeah.” Thomas snapped his fingers. “I forgot.”

“Well, never mind that anyway. Welcome to my humble bloody abode.” Newt pushed open his apartment door and led the way into the wide main room.

“Nice place,” Thomas said, moving to stand in front of the large window. It overlooked the city, which was dark and sparkled red and blue as headlights darted down streets and advertisements flashed on and off.

“I like it.”

Thomas turned around. Newt was standing in the middle of the room. His face was smudged a dark grey from the shadows that striped across it. Thomas walked over to him. He felt something beating in the room, like a heart that shuddered as he stared at Newt through the gloom.

“So, what’s your number?” he asked. Newt glanced down at his phone, and Thomas cursed himself for being a coward.

-

Thomas’ phone buzzed and he grinned involuntarily.

“What’s your boyfriend texting you about now?” Teresa sighed, instead of telling him off for having his phone out at work.

“Probably complaining about this art project he’s doing. That or he still hasn’t forgiven me for buying that one Justin Bieber song. Oh, wait.” Thomas flushed. “Newt’s not my boyfriend.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “Ok Tom.”

Thomas didn’t bother responding; he pushed past Teresa to greet the next person in line at the bar.

“Hey,” he said. “How can I – Newt?”

“Tommy,” Newt said, beaming at Thomas across the counter. “You busy?”

“Yes,” Thomas said at the same time as Teresa said “no.” Newt chuckled, and Thomas raised an eyebrow at Teresa. She sighed, tilting her chin in Newt’s direction and widening her eyes at Thomas. He frowned at her, nonplussed. She muttered something, probably an insult, and shoved him in the direction of the door.

“Get out of here, you worthless…” she headed back into the kitchen, talking quietly to herself and waving her arms around angrily.

“She gets tired of dealing with me,” Thomas told Newt as he stepped around the bar and joined the other.

“I texted you before,” Newt said. “But I guess you didn’t see?”

“Oh that’s what that was. I can’t check my phone when I’m working, Newt!” Thomas clutched at his heart and glared at Newt. “Have some faith in my work ethic.”

“You’re right, I’m bloody sorry. You should go back.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, it’s too late. Where are we going, anyway?”

Newt looked suddenly faintly worried. “My studio,” he said softly. Thomas’ mouth fell open.

“What? Am I gonna get to see your art?”

“If you want to.”

“Are you kidding?” Thomas did a little jump before realising how ridiculous that must have looked, and coughed. “Of course I want to see it!” Newt did the smile that made his nose scrunch up.

“Alright then.”

-

Newt’s key clicked in the large door and it swung open, revealing a strangely cramped room. It was an explosion of colour. The walls were painted with intricate patterns and random splashes.

“I doodle on the walls when I’m bored,” Newt explained, seeing Thomas looking at them. He was biting his nails. He navigated the clutter with ease until he stopped in front of two large canvases covered with sheets.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, watching Newt fidget. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do.” Newt hesitated a second longer before seeming to strengthen his resolve. He stepped forward, tugging the sheets off the artworks and standing back, looking at Thomas anxiously. Thomas froze.

The paintings were of his dreams. The first one was the greenest thing Thomas had ever seen in his life. He could see lush grassy fields and a thick forest over in the corner. The scene was relatively peaceful, the sky was clear and bright, the sun shone down on the plants and the ground, but it made Thomas tense. Fear shifted around in the pit of his stomach. His gaze moved along to the second one and he felt himself start to sweat.

The picture was from a bird’s eye view, gazing down a long grey wall to the brown ground below as though someone was standing on top of the wall. The wall was high and covered in climbing plants that looked strong enough to support a grown man. Thomas had to reach out and grip the edge of a table to steady himself. He stared at the paintings almost in horror.

“What d’you think?”

Newt was watching him. He looked vulnerable and small next to the images. Thomas stared at him, trying to speak.

“You dream too?” he said finally, his voice hoarse. It was a vague thing to say, and Thomas winced as he heard himself, but Newt looked as though he understood exactly what Thomas was talking about.

“Yeah, I dreamt these up,” he said. “Bloody scared me half to death, the first time. And then they wouldn’t… they wouldn’t go away. I had the same dreams over and over again until I figured I’d try and paint it.” He half laughed. “Inspiration comes from the strangest places, right?”

Thomas didn’t laugh. Instead he walked to Newt’s side and carefully, cautiously, wrapped his arms around Newt’s waist.

“They’re amazing,” he said, his voice low. “Really, they are. I just-” Newt leant into him, circling Thomas’ neck with his own arms. Thomas could feel him shaking.

“You know what these are, right?” Newt’s voice was muffled; Thomas could feel his breath on the back of his neck. “I mean – well, I don’t even bloody know what they are, but you understand them, right?” 

“Yeah.” Thomas’ lips were numb. “I do.”

Newt pulled back slightly, not to break the hug but so that he could look at Thomas’ face. Thomas looked into his eyes, his dark brown eyes, and felt a painful melancholy.

“I think,” Thomas breathed, his voice was thick and unsteady. “I think I knew you.”

“What?” Newt’s brow furrowed. Thomas could feel his fingers tracing random patterns through his t-shirt.

“I don’t know when,” he muttered, “but I just… I know you. I knew you. Is that… I mean, do you… is that weird?”

Newt studied him intently, his eyes darting back and forth between Thomas’ own. He shook his head. “That’s not weird, Tommy.”

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you like me?” Newt asked. He sounded apprehensive.

“What?”

“Before.” Newt’s gaze dropped, and he stared at the ground. “Did you like me, when you knew me before?”

Thomas huffed a laugh. He leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead against Newt’s. “I think I loved you,” he said.

-

Thomas spent the night at Newt’s apartment. They sat on the couch and watched shitty TV-movies, and Thomas was relieved to find that nothing really changed after his declaration.

Except that, when Newt started to fall asleep on his shoulder, and he suggested maybe Newt should go to sleep, Newt wordlessly took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom. Except that in the haze of tiredness that clung to his being, he leant over and kissed Newt goodnight, forgetting for a second that that was the first time they’d done anything like that. Newt didn’t seem to mind; in fact he kissed Thomas back and it was slow and sweet and made Thomas feel simultaneously cavernously sad and ridiculously happy. Except that he drifted off with Newt in his arms and Newt’s hair soft under his chin.

Except for that.

-

Thomas awoke feeling more content than he had in a long time. He opened his eyes to see Newt lying next to him, his hand resting next to his face, which was calm and creased with sleep. Thomas pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade, trailing his lips up Newt’s neck experimentally, and Newt let out a soft sigh.

“Morning,” Thomas said. Newt groaned, rolling over and slinging an arm over Thomas’ waist.

“It’s too bloody early,” he murmured, peering up Thomas. “You are not allowed to leave this buggin’ bed until it’s a more reasonable hour.”

Thomas smiled. “Deal.”

-

The next time he came back to consciousness, Newt’s hand was in his. They lay on the bed together, Thomas writing letters on Newt’s palm.

“I was worried,” Newt said, “that you’d never… do anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you always seemed to be on the verge of bloody… kissing me or something, but you never did it.”

“Oh.” Thomas laughed. “That. Well, I’m an idiot. Ask anyone.”

He heard Newt laugh, and his phone began to buzz aggressively. He rolled over and retrieved it from Newt’s bedside table.

“Teresa?”

“Tom, where are you? You’re supposed to be working.”

“Ah.” Thomas looked at the clock sheepishly. “We lost track of time.”

Teresa laughed. “You would,” she said. Then she paused. “Wait, we?”

“Me and Newt.”

She whistled. “You finally did it? Made a move?”

“Kind of.”

“Ugh, don’t bullshit me Tom. I’ve put up with your pining too long. Are you dating this guy or what?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas said honestly. He looked around at Newt, who was curled up in a faded blue blanket. “Are we dating?” Thomas asked. Newt grinned.

“Only if you want to,” he said, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“We are dating,” he told Teresa. She heaved a sigh.

“Took you fucking long enough.”

Thomas shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Well, it was worth the wait.”

“Disgusting,” Teresa told him. “Never speak to me again.”

“What was worth the wait?” Newt asked, as Thomas dropped the phone onto the ground, laughing to himself. He reached over and tugged at the blanket until Newt let him in, and sighed happily.

“You were,” he said simply. Newt laughed.

“Be cheesier Tommy, I dare you.”

“Sorry,” Thomas grumbled. “I thought it was a nice thing to say.”

Newt leaned over and kissed him quickly on the nose. “You’re lucky I love cheese ,” he said.


End file.
